Phoenix
by eyesforfiction
Summary: When events ebb to their lowest, a fire brings a new beginning.


Fan Fiction Take 1 August 2017 "Phoenix"

Chapter 1

 **Monday**

The letter that she received that evening made her take a deep breath and sit down on her landlady's arm chair with a thump and a surprisingly loud 'Oh!'. By the time that her fellow boarders had come home and filled the living room with idle chatter, she had recalled the entire event in her mind's eye like a flip book of moving pictures – the kind that always made her thumb sore by the second time around.

 _...She had just dropped Mr Foyle home and was absent-mindedly driving the car back to the station yard for the evening. It was a bit earlier than usual as the day had been slow and she had appreciated the early release on such a beautifully warm early evening. The roadside along the shore had beckoned her even though it was a longer route and she shouldn't really waste the petrol._

 _At first she thought that the smell of smoke was coming from the Wolseley but a scan of the scene made her stomach twitch within her as she saw the dark orange flames licking the outer edge of an upstairs bedroom window two houses ahead of her. However what made her stomach almost lurch into her throat was the sound of a child screaming! She stopped the car with trembling feet and got out. The sight of the local Warden running to the same house gave her a small amount of courage although, from the look on his face, he probably was hoping to borrow a bit of hers. He opened the front door and called – no answer. The two of them gingerly, albeit with haste, climbed the stairs and the heat began to oppress her. The popping and cracking of timber on fire reminded her of the fireplace at Mr Foyle's house but it was ten times louder. A middle aged woman covered in black smears saw Sam and handed her a small child (perhaps she was the one that was screaming earlier) and coughed out a rasping voice that told the Warden that another child was still in the bedroom but she couldn't find him in the thick smoke. Oh Dear Lord, this was a nightmare. Sam handed the small child to the Warden and told him to take the mother and daughter out of the house and seek treatment for them. As a second thought she grabbed the gas mask from the Warden's shoulder, placed it over her nose and mouth like the safety briefings had told her to and courageously stepped into the cloud. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably no more than a few minutes she groped around in the direction of the mother's gestures and her fingers touched soft flesh – it moved! A small hurried prayer and a flurry of feet found the two of them on the footpath being seen to by a doctor._

 _Once she had been cleared by the medial staff she returned the vehicle to the police yard and reported the incident to Sergeant Brooke whose eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he slowly, but with great affection, put his hand on her upper arm and enquired as to her well being._

 _After she arrived back at her billet silently wishing for a quiet bath and a warm bed, the telephone begged for her attention. She was still the first of the girls to arrive home so she dutifully answered. The sound of Mr Foyle's concerned voice on the line checking that she was indeed okay made her finally able to relax – just as it always did…._

The official looking buff envelope was still in her hands which were resting in her lap. Dot, one of the two WRENs that shared Sam's billet asked if she was alright. It wasn't usual for Sam to be rendered speechless. "What have you got there, Sam? Not bad news I hope?" Dot knew that Sam had been walking out with an RAF chap for quite a while now and she hadn't heard from him in some time.

Sam's face focused on the gaggle of concerned ladies milling around her armchair and she smiled. "No. I just received a letter from the MTC Head Office in Brighton. It seems that news of me rescuing that little boy from the fire last month has reached them. They want me to attend a small ceremony on Thursday to receive a commendation."

"Oh, that's quite something, Sam." Silvia said with a smile.

"Well, it's nothing too big. Just a lot of saluting and handshaking I suspect." Added Sam who had never been at ease with either being overtly thanked or being the centre of attention; and certainly not BOTH at the same time. "I suppose I really _should_ go. I can ask for the afternoon off – if they can spare me. I don't like my chances though with how short staffed the station is at the moment. This local dose of the flu seems to be dropping police officers one after the other".

Chapter 2

 **Tuesday**

The next morning, after a solid sleep, Sam was still unsure about the prospect of Thursday's ceremony. Perhaps she could ask Mr Foyle this morning.

"Good Morning, Sir!" Sam always tried to _start_ her day positively.

"Hhhmmmm…...today might be a bit tricky, Sam" Mr Foyle's jacket gave a small squeak as he slid in across the leather of the front seat.

"Oh, why's that, Sir?" Not a great start.

"Two more constables down with this dreaded flu. Brooke rang me first thing. I just hope that nothing big happens over the next few days or we'll be forced to call in reinforcements from Bexhill or Hythe." Sam could see the way the mere thought of asking for outside help weighed down on him. She absently touched the pocket that held her letter from the MTC. Maybe next time…

It was a quiet drive to the station and even the indefatigable Brookie wore a grimace behind the front desk. Sam kept walking and weaved her way through to the kitchen where she began to fill the kettle. She heard Mr Reid coughing hoarsely from behind his slightly open office door.

"Tea, Sir?" Sam enquired of him quietly.

"Ugghhhh…..." he replied which morphed to a wet sounding cough. Even worse start.

Sam wondered what the rest of the day would bring. Perhaps some hot tea for the remaining troops would help to lift the grey feeling pressing in on the Hastings Constabulary. Maybe.

With her tray resting between her hip and one hand she reached up and knocked on Mr Foyle's office door with the other. "Yes!" came the reply from the inside. He was rationing his words even more than usual today.

Sam opened the door and copied his brevity. "Tea?" She placed the tray on a corner of his desk and handed cups to both men. Milner was there too. He gave a quick but genuine smile to Sam in thanks and all three took and held a shallow breath as the phone on the desk rang its shrill request. While attention was averted Sam began to pull out the letter from her pocket. She hoped that there would be a minute or two to talk to the two of them about her request. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Foyle stood up, looked at Milner and bustled the two of them out of the office. They left in such a flurry that one of the cups spun on its saucer and almost toppled to the ground. She dropped her letter and grabbed the cup before it fell. She was alone.

Sam gathered the tea things, mopped the small spillage on the desk with her hanky and left the small room feeling less than she did before the tea. That wasn't the plan at all. Sam began to wonder if today itself even had a plan or if it was just rushing to meet its end.

The morning mercifully was sliding into afternoon but another constable had been sent home and Sam wondered if Mr Reid was still around or had he been sent home too. Perhaps it was best to assume that he had been and not seek him out.

She bustled around the front desk helping Brooke with filing and tidying. She didn't mind and she was sure that if Mr Foyle wanted her for another more important task then he knew where to find her. Brookie wouldn't normally be this distant but she could see that he was under a huge amount of strain and so she just rolled her sleeves up (literally) and helped where she could – just as she always did.

Chapter 3

 **Wednesday**

Sam wondered just how many people would be at the station this morning.

"Good Morning, Brookie!" Sam softly said as she caught his eye on the other side of the desk. Even her sweetest smile didn't have much effect on him. Well, Mr Foyle was much the same in the car this morning too. He and Milner had left the main floor of the station as they arrived and she hadn't seen them since. She was reasonably sure that they were still here somewhere in the building as no one had asked for a driver…..unless they were walking.

"Ah, Mr Foyle, Sir!" Brookie's voice didn't have its usual timbre but oddly confidence still abounded. Perhaps not for long…. "I've had to send another two home today, Sir and Mr Reid really ought not to be here either."

"Aaaggghhh" was all Foyle could manage in reply although his whole face contorted and his eyes closed for quite some time. He pivoted on his right foot and walked purposefully to his office.

The afternoon post arrived at its usual time and Brookie placed Foyle's mail in a pile on his desk. The pile sat on top of Sam's MTC letter which still remained in the place that she had dropped it the day before.

Sam saw Milner appear in the kitchen some time later and she offered to make tea for him. "That would be great, Sam but Mr Foyle and I need to keep working on this case. I'm just looking for my pen. I've put it down somewhere but can't remember where."

"Front desk, near the register, Milner" was all Sam was able to say before he too pivoted and walked to the DCS's office with a purposeful haste.

The rest of the afternoon drew to a close after she had given both the kitchen and the front desk a bit of a clean up. It was nearing six in the evening and Sam made one last pot of tea for Foyle and Milner. She took it in to the office, whose door was already open so she didn't feel the need to knock but still cleared her throat loudly as she approached just for good manners. The refreshments were given and Sam quietly, as she could see that Mr Foyle was rubbing his temples lightly, asked if he needed her any more today. "No. You go home, Sam." was what he said although both his attention and his vision were on other things.

After Sam, Milner and Brooke had gone home, Foyle sat back in his office chair and it creaked in protest; or perhaps that was his body. Who could tell?

Just one last thing to do before he could make his way home – this afternoon's post. His tired fingers, which were matched by his tired brain, opened each letter in turn. The pile got smaller and smaller until he came to the small buff coloured envelope at the bottom. How odd that it was already opened. Had he already opened it but put it back into the pile? Christopher sometimes doubted his sanity on days like today when even his brain was screaming for rest. He skimmed through the letter with blurry eyes but it didn't seem to make sense. He read it again and this time realised that it wasn't even addressed to him and it was in fact Sam's letter. He felt a little like he was intruding on her private affairs (which never sat well with his conscience) but strangely he couldn't stop himself from reading on. She was to be given a commendation! What?! Tomorrow! His mind spun around on its axis. Why was this the first time that he'd heard of it? Had she told him and he'd forgotten? No, not in my dotage yet. As it often did, Christopher's mind went back through the last few days in his mind's eye.

He recalled several occasions over the last few days when Sam had approached him and he'd either answered her abruptly or, worse still, ignored her completely. A piece of molten lead hit the bottom of his stomach as he could not recall once saying thank you in any way, shape, or form in the last three days. Endless cups of tea had appeared on his desk, he had been driven from one post to another without protest and _someone_ had been doing his filing for him. It was just as well that he was on his own in the Hastings Constabulary at that time as he cursed himself with gusto using words that a gentleman should never use.

He picked up the telephone on his desk and began to make calls.

Chapter 4

 **Thursday**

When Sam finished with the car on Thursday morning after picking up Mr Foyle, a strange sight greeted her from the foyer of the station. It was certainly a cheery face and there was indeed a bounce to the step of the lad but it was not Brookie. Sam often wondered if the thoughts that she had really played out on her face and this morning it seems her question had been answered. The cheery young fellow put out his hand and said "Sgt David Smythe. You must be Miss Stewart. Pleased to meet you." He smiled like he had been expecting her. She returned his handshake, smiled back and made her way to the kitchen. Ten minutes later with her tea tray at the ready she knocked on Mr Foyle's office door. "Thought you might like some tea, Sir" she said as she scanned the room for Milner.

He made a point of stopping what he was doing, making eye contact with her and saying "Thank you, Sam" with a genuine smile. "Sgt Milner's been called away to a job so it looks like it's just the two of us. You have the other cup, Sam." He gestured for her to sit in the chair across from his desk, swallowed his mouthful of tea and biscuit and asked her if she would mind helping him with a few office jobs and then he wanted her to drive him to Brighton for an appointment.

"Of course, Sir. Not a problem. What time would you like to leave?"

"Oh, perhaps 10? Will that give you enough time to get this typing done and clear the filing tray?"

"Absolutely, Sir."

"Good" he said with a single nod that meant much more than it looked like.

It was a quiet morning and all of the assigned tasks had been completed so Foyle grabbed his hat and asked "Ready, Sam?"

"Yes, Sir. I'll just get the car."

The scenery flicked past her side window and she began a conversation. "You know, Sir, It's funny that we're heading out to Brighton. I was going to ask you about something…..."

"I know, Sam. That's where we're going." A cheeky smile grew on his face.

"What?! Really, Sir? To MTC Head Quarters?" her head movements made her look like she was watching a tennis match between Foyle and the front windscreen. Her eyes wide.

"Yes, Sam. Why didn't you tell me sooner? It would have been easier to plan for if I'd've had more time."

"well, …..there never really seemed like a good time to bring it up, Sir. I saw how busy you all were, especially with so many Constables missing. I would have been happy to miss it." The last sentence came out without much breath behind it.

"Well, _**I**_ wouldn't have, Sam!"

The rest of the journey to Brighton passed by uneventfully and they were soon rising up the front steps of the MTC Regional Headquarters. Foyle reached ahead of her and opened the large wooden doors. Sam was quickly met by Mrs Broad who, apparently, was her Regional Commander. Sam looked around for Mr Foyle but she couldn't find him. She was confident he'd find out where he needed to be and so she followed Mrs Broad to a chair on the side of a small stage. Once Sam had settled a bit she allowed herself to take in the scene. When her eyes saw it, she couldn't help gasping (maybe even audibly). Seated across the front row were Mr Foyle, Mr Reid, Milner and brookie all smiling at her like she was the queen herself! Were they all here just for her? Oh my….

When the simple ceremony was over and the dignitaries on the stage saluted her, a heart-warming sight made the tears well in her eyes and even roll down her cheeks. All four of those wonderful fellows in the front row saluted her as well.


End file.
